


Fighting Fate

by skullosaurus



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: M/M, Short Drabble, eye color exchange, scientist vs lawyer, soulmate bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2019-02-01 06:59:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12699753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skullosaurus/pseuds/skullosaurus
Summary: AU: soulmates find each other by exchanging eye colors.Vexen is a forensic scientist, Marluxia is a widely known and despised defending lawyer. Marluxia is proud of having his eyes to himself, but when he looks into the face of a nagging forensic scientist, he finds one eye a different color. Not only that, but his past haunts his every step. Short story inspired by a fanfiction titled “The Fault In My Code” by LiaS0 (Hannibal TV series). I don't own the idea of the AU!





	Fighting Fate

**Author's Note:**

> AU: soulmates find each other by exchanging eye colors   
> This is inspired by a fanfiction titled “The Fault In My Code” by LiaS0 (Hannibal TV series)! I don't own the idea of the AU, so please check them out- they're an amazing writer and really captured the concept of the soulmate universe.

Working as a lawyer requires both mind and body to work together, to seamlessly process information for both understanding and manipulation. Marluxia Oleander excelled at his work. He excelled enough to garner a reputation, as his clients consisted only of actual murderers, guilty people with no hope to find innocence in the courtroom.  
Beyond his work, Marluxia had but one other thing in his life to feel proud of. And that was his eyes. He bore two devilishly blue eyes, unmarked and deep. In a world where people could connect with others through sheer eye contact, where a soulmate bond would be created, eye colors would be exchanged, with each person having one of the other person’s eye color. These relationships could be platonic or romantic, but they were always formed due to two people sharing a trait with each other- personality, mentality or even childhood experiences.  
Marluxia didn’t have time to deal with such a thing. Having two clear eyes bore testimony to his dedication to keeping his mind focused on his work. He had no desire to embellish his physical wants or establish relationships with his peers. Neither would fare well in the field of work he was in.  
Marluxia was confident he’d keep his eye colors to himself, as he never let his eyes stray into those of others. It was too risky to even glance, he had no time to lose for love or even basic physicalities.  
Having two blue eyes gave him more than just a sense of uniqueness, it also gave him a taste of control and power.

Of course this would never hold up.  
After a particularly violent murder spree with ten dead prostitutes, Marluxia was given the task of defending a violent, wealthy and unstable blonde man who had a knack for gambling. It wasn’t hard for the police force to determine him guilty of all the evidence that had amounted, but as Marluxia worked his cunning magic, getting bits of evidence overruled, using charisma to present Mr. Hoffman’s mental state as well as underline the unprofessionalism of the police force, the stand wavered. A break was called, in which the stand was to decide on the fate of the killer.  
Outside the courtroom, Marluxia managed to press through the reporters jostling him, escaping to a marble staircase and onto a small empty balcony. The name Nerium Oleander echoed after him. He had his group of intolerable reporters bothering him, but it was also nice to have a title honoring his work.

Out on the balcony, Marluxia gathered his breath. They called him Nerium Oleander for his hair and name. He was poison to the justice system, but he did it so well they had a hard time criminalizing him.  
An icy wind disrupted his calm thoughts, his black coat shifting and his long hair blowing into his face. Someone had neared him, polished black shoes squeaking on the tile flooring. Turning around, Marluxia raised his gaze and saw that the stranger was wearing a white lab coat, with long strands of blonde hair running fleetingly over the man’s shoulders. The stranger's mouth was a thin line, distrusting, his cheeks and nose characteristically poignant. A forensic scientist, Marluxia mused. There was an air of hatred about him that suggested he had something to say. He could feel his gaze drilling into his face.  
“Out with it then,” Marluxia sighed, annoyance bubbling up at the person’s intrusion, “If you have anything of value to say.”  
Obviously rude, but his remark did not stir the stranger up. In fact, he seemed more energized to speak.  
“I have read of your work, Mr. Oleander,” the scientist’s voice was as cold as his aura, no hint of respect lacing his words. “Mr. Hoffman will be found guilty even with your removal of evidence, and nothing you've done will ease his verdict.”  
Marluxia smiled, eyes narrowing as they lay upon the other man’s taught jaws. How cocky. This was personal.  
“We’ll see about that, shall we, Mr…?” he extended his hand out to the stranger, the other in his coat pocket.  
The scientist took it, his grip stiff but firm. “Mr. Eisberg, Vexen Eisberg. I’ve seen you in court before. Pleased to make your acquaintance.” He was certainly not pleased at all, but as it was time to return to the courtroom, Marluxia ignored the pretension of formalities.

Naturally, Mr. Hoffman was determined guilty, yet the judge had granted him his insanity plea. Ten years within a mental institute with the possibility of reduced sentence with good behaviour. He was practically a free man, give or take a year or so if he pulled his act together.

Even more so natural Marluxia sought out the face of the blonde in the crowd of the courtroom. He wanted to gloat, smear his victory all over the blonde’s face. But why he let himself look into his eyes with confidence, he did not know. It was automatic, an evil smirk painted on his face as he took in the angry face of the scientist. His eyes were a piercing green, beautiful but chilly. It sent a spark of excitement Marluxia hadn’t felt in a long time through his veins. Smile snarky and boastful, he left the courtroom with Mr. Hoffman, the scientist not alone amongst those who lingered their glares upon his back.

Marluxia’s work was never positively acclaimed.  
Another client, another win, another day. It was routine for him, so he layed himself to bed that evening without much thought, only the aftermath of green imprinted on his eyes.

It was the next morning that things took a downturn. The faucet was pouring freezing cold water, but Marluxia could not feel it as he stared into the mirror with one vivid green eye returning his gaze.

 

…

 

“Nerium Oleander: killer walks free”  
“Mr. Hoffman and Oleander; the dream team”  
“Lawyer Oleander and his killers”

Another day, another dozen headlines.

The morning had passed along with his short panic and rage episode. He couldn’t focus on the papers in front of him as he slowly nipped at his breakfast. He should be reveling in yet another victory. He had definitely won, but the man felt more at loss than ever.  
He didn’t want this green eye taking the place where his own should be. They should be his two blue eyes, this should be under his control.  
He cursed at the blonde in his mind, who had so easily caught his gaze and returned it.  
He left the papers along with breakfast. If he dwelled more on it, the more he felt his control waver.  
It was time for work.

It was a slow day, although it was good to pace his mind about files, lawsuits and the regular paperwork. The change in his eye colors was received with mockery behind his back, his peers sharing disgust and pity for whoever was the unlucky soul connected with the horrid lawyer.  
Marluxia was aware of this, but meaningless office chatter bore no value to his thoughts. They were right in regards to him being a horrible person- he helped the scum of earth escape prison charges, yet as the day grew dark, his thoughts shifted back to certain things like they always do. He thought about how he liked doing what he did.  
He liked saving them.  
He hummed to himself, sifting through papers as his peers in their offices packed up and left for home. He’d stay late, finish the little things and be ready for whatever came next.  
As the offices about him darkened, his dimly lit room was the only one casting a golden glow into the hallway.

It was thus easier for the scientist to find him.

 

“What did you do- Is this some kind of sick joke to you?”

The door to Marluxia’s office was closed. The scientist, who had entered the room and closed it, had his fists crunched up in angry balls of flesh atop the table, regarding Marluxia with one green, one blue eye.  
The sight of that shot a surprisingly pleasurable feeling down Marluxia’s back. Seeing the scientist so in turmoil, having his eye of all people disgrace him, was enthralling. But it was also a reminder he was sharing the blonde’s sinking boat.  
There was nothing to hem him from reciprocating Vexen’s glare, small smile stiff on his jaws.  
“Elaborate please, Mr. Eisberg.”  
Placated by the lawyers nonresistance, Vexen’s bristling subsided, but only minimally.  
“Firstly, your bastardly work allowed a criminal to forego his punishment,” his voice was filled with a bitter hatred, “Secondly, you managed to get the judge to dismiss irrefutable evidence- evidence I work hard at extracting.”  
Marluxia sat back, pen idly playing back and forth in his hands as he silently watched the man rant.  
“Mr. Hoffman should have been sent to prison. You realize that, do you not?”  
“Of course, Mr. Eisberg, pardon my rudeness, but I do want to clarify that you understand what my job is.”  
Vexen leaned back as well, teeth bared.  
“Of course, your sort wouldn’t understand how deep they roll in the filthy greys of their own moral code. Why did I bother to come here even, to try and reason with such person.”  
“Why did you indeed,” the pink haired man purred, eyes focused on the blue, “Why would a man who pokes at corpses feel the need to remind a lawyer of society’s moral ethics.”  
“It’s not the same,” the blonde growled.  
“It is not,” Marluxia lamely acknowledged, dropping his pen on the table, “But that isn’t what you wished to speak of in the first place.”  
“That’s right. You have something of mine.”  
The lawyer stood, gathering his things into his laminated suitcase before walking around the table to stand before the blonde.  
"As do you, Mr. Eisberg, as do you. Your accusation is ridiculous however. You know as much as I that I have no control over fate.”  
They stood facing each other, Vexen, taller with a furrowed brow, Marluxia with a grim face.  
“If you think so highly of yourself that I would go out of my way to induce this, do not be so illusioned. You've lost, and now you're here, in the hopes that you could placate your anger.”  
Marluxia smiled briefly, before turning away.  
“If you so wish to engage me in the frivolousness of rivalry, feel free to. But you haven't proven to me to be of worthy competition," he said.  
"Shut up.” Vexen spat, following Marluxia’s movements with his eyes. “You see this as a game? What does that speak of you? If anything, your display of ridiculousness in the courtroom proved to me you have no actual skill!”  
Marluxia grabbed his long black coat from the rack, then gave the blonde a curious albeit annoyed glance.   
“All you do is put up a pretty face, some well rehearsed words and BAM!-” Vexen hits his fist against the table, the noise sudden and loud, “Everyone's head over heels for the damned prick whose killers get let loose!"

“You think I’ve won the public over with my charm in order to feed some dark and twisted nature by granting freedom to murderers? Despite what is said in nearly all the town’s papers?”  
Marluxia flicked the lights off, gesturing for the man to step outside.  
“You must realize I am certainly not out of the public’s wrath, my dear Mr. Eisberg.”  
Storming past, Vexen shook one long, thin finger at him, “Do not call me that.”  
In the darkened hallway he faced the lawyer again, “Don’t set yourself up as the victim. I took one look at you and saw nothing but a sociopath- a clever, charming little snake in the justice system’s boots.”  
“You think too highly of me,” Marluxia locked the door, not wasting time to wait for the blonde to catch up to him as he started walking away, “You’re really too kind.”  
An annoyed sound drove out of the blonde as he quickly stepped close along behind him, “You’re doing it even in personal conversations. Why did fate choose to bind us together when we have nothing- I mean absolutely nothing in common?”  
They stepped down the marble staircase, a few people mingling about finishing the last of their work.  
“You’re starting to get on my nerves, Mr. Eisberg-.”  
“As are you, Mr. Oleander, you are a despicable human being and your violation of what is inherently good makes me want to-.”  
“What,” Marluxia turned sharply around, eyes narrowed, “Makes you want to send me to hell? Well,” he huffed, frown turning to a sneer, “We can’t all enjoy such luxurious trip.”  
“You might be able to afford a ticket,” Vexen cooly responded, “With all the fame and money accounted to you.”  
Turning around, Marluxia continued on his way out, an irritated huff of air escaping him. He only managed to shake off the scientist once he caught a cab, but even so, he could still hear the man’s voice linger in his ears.

One he returned to his hotel room, he found it trashed. It wasn’t a strange occurrence for Marluxia to return to see his things thrown about and furniture destroyed, but it was a good sign to move hotels. He did so easily- only needing his clothing and work items. It was a good thing he stayed late at work, lest he’d have encountered those who had payed his room a little visit.

It had happened once before, and the scar along his torso was something he simply carried along with his job.

His new hotel room as smaller, reasonably simpler. There were many reasons why Marluxia would never let himself settle down into a house, one of them being he couldn’t be bothered to take care of the maintenance. Otherwise, as he laid himself to sleep, he thought of the implications- the death threats, the necessary security. It was all so much easier with hotels and hostels. There was nothing personal about the rooms, no lingering memories or mementos to keep his mind trailing in the past.  
He also never wanted to risk his clients coming by to pay him their regards. A visit from a psychopath could never end well.  
Especially if they did not think of him fondly.  
There was one case that would always linger on his mind- the consequences of losing, and his client, a tall, tanned and white haired man being convicted for life and being shipped off to the safest prison police could send him to. This man, who had whispered into Marluxia’s ears before being dragged away in court, had later that year escaped and there was no lead on where he could be.  
As Marluxia dozed off, he wondered how long it would be until the man would make true of his promise and visit him.

…

Another day, another case.  
During the morning Marluxia received a call about a murderer in need of a defendant. Subsequently, he was on his way to the Northwest police station, in which a Dr. Siegmayer was held under questioning.  
When the pink haired man first stepped into the room to meet his client, he saw an older gentleman with long locks of blue and a scar stretched across his brow. He held no innocence about him.  
The accusation was that he’d been responsible for killing two young women and used their meat for cooking. While the two deaths were accounted for, it was mused that there could be more. While Marluxia represented Dr. Siegmayer and responded to the questions the police gave them, he idly wondered how human meat tasted like.

The blue haired man was kept in an isolated cell at the ward, where Marluxia took to discussing the case alone with him. The man seemed less interested in the case, but as the lawyer listed the potential options he could vie for, the man spoke, his voice deep and enthralling.  
“You needn’t worry about those things, Mr. Oleander. There are more pressing thoughts to dwell upon. I’ll be free regardless of what happens.”  
Their eyes connected, Dr. Siegmayer’s a piercing animalistic yellow, reminiscent of only one person Marluxia could think of. It sent pain to prod his insides as he registered the meaning of this.  
“If you don’t speak, I can work this out for you,” he started, measuring his words carefully,  “Whatever they accuse you of, in the end, we can get it lightened.”  
“He sends his regards- and wishes for you to mention him in the court,” Dr. Siegmayer kept his eyes fixed on him, “Cannibalism was an all too easy picture for us to paint, and the law enforcement will be too daft to understand the true motive.”  
Marluxia’s temper rose, but he smoothed his hair with a hand, voice calm, “You want me to drop the defense in favor of redirecting the accusation.” It was a statement, not a question. Siegmayer was playing cocky- he wanted to plead innocence and claim someone else was the murderer. Someone who hired him to work for him. Someone who could very well kill any of them in order to get his way.  
“I cannot do that.”  
“Don’t play ignorance. You will offend him and he’ll kill you. Ignore him, and he’ll kill you.”  
“I know what he’s playing at,” Marluxia nearly snarled, “to drag me through the dirt and then smother whatever’s left of my pitiful remains.”  
Dr. Siegmayer smiled. It was not at all becoming, but it was mysteriously handsome all the same. If things weren’t pressing, Marluxia could have found it dashing if he’d been inclined.  
“Play his game, Mr. Oleander. You know all too well how our minds work.”

...

In the evening, Marluxia was attending a tasty french buffet at an expensive restaurant. French food wasn’t his forte, yet he needed the distraction. He was a dead man walking, unless he could evade whatever was to come.  
Dr. Saix Siegmayer was guilty of something, but the lawyer had been incorrect in assuming he was responsible for the cannibal victims. He was part of a scheme, a scheme to get Marluxia choosing between sentencing the possibly innocent Dr. Siegmayer for the crimes of another, and be killed for ignoring his instructions, or else accuse the only person behind this for the murders, and then be ruthlessly killed if he managed to succeed.  
His life was dangling on a short thread, and notifying the authorities wouldn’t help- nor would relocating every night to sleep in a different place.  
The white haired man had to be connected to this. Only he was the other man Marluxia had ever seen with two yellow eyes.  
He wallowed in these thoughts until he felt his cell phone vibrate in his pants pocket. Taking it out, he didn’t recognize the number. He nearly felt the tenor of the tanned man rumble through his body and whisper past his ear.  
It wasn’t him. It was another friendly voice Marluxia had been dying to hear.

"You must have your client acquitted, Marluxia--"  
"Since when were we on first-name basis, Mr. Eisberg? And how did you get my number?"  
"Nevermind that! I'm siding with you, you narcissistic moron.”   
A pause.   
“Dr. Siegmayer didn't do it, but if you defend him on the basis of reducing his sentence you're letting the true criminal go free--your life could be in danger."  
Marluxia silently slipped out of the restaurant as they spoke, but now as he stood desolate in the darkened parking lot he wished he was back inside.  
"You nearly sound like you care,” he murmured, taking a moment to understand that Vexen had caught onto the truth of the case, “What proof do you have of any of this?"  
"Not conclusive, however--"  
"If it is not conclusive you might as well stop there. There's more than enough evidence to convict Dr. Siegmayer of what he's done."  
"It's a hunch, but I don't believe he was working alone, Marluxia."  
"...I do wish you'd ask permission before calling my name like that."  
“Do you even care?” the voice coming from his cellphone turned to a shout, “You said it yourself, you've got many enemies of your own. One of your clients who got acquitted must be back."  
"My, you must have gone through so many of my files to find one of those."  
"There's only one I believe hits home. Marluxia--I worked on that case as well."  
"Meaning I’ve lost a case to you. We are even then."  
"That doesn't matter! Are you listening to me? Get to Coastal Street Station. I've got a bone to pick with you."  
The line clipped, the connection dropping. Sighing, Marluxia glanced at his wristwatch. It was still early in the evening, so he might as well entertain the scientist with his seemingly urgent matters.  
Of course, no matter what presented itself in the future, Marluxia knew nothing could stop what would indubitably happen.

Coastal Street Station featured only rancid streets close to the boggish water of the coast. Perfect setting for any sort of rancid acts, the lawyer mused as he stepped out of the station. He was immediately greeted by Vexen, who came rushing at him.  
He looked rugged and tired- yet definitely excited as he dragged Marluxia along with him down the streets and towards a run-down and abandoned apartment.  
Standing before it, the blonde inhaled before staring at the lawyer.  
“He was here.”  
The hairs on Marluxia’s neck and arms raised at the notion.  
“Don’t you understand? Hang on, let me show you.”  
Without a warning, the scientist entered the building, leaving behind the hesitant man. After a pause outside, where the darkness and quietude came bearing down on him, he stepped inside.  
Vexen was on the second floor. The inside of the building consisted of creaky boarded walls and floors. Trash and debris littered every spot of ground, but what defined this place from any regular run down shack was the definite yet soft smell of tobacco. For a moment, Marluxia wished he couldn’t smell, couldn’t see.   
Up the stairs and besides Vexen, he could see that someone had brought a finely made old couch as well as cleared up the fireplace. The room looked recently used, clean.  
“I found this place through a trace left on the bodies. Tobacco traces. Not just any kind of tobacco, but the kernels are distinguishably those of the Malnourad Company, who own a producing plot nearby. You recognize this smell, don’t you? It can only be-.”  
“Don’t say his name,” Marluxia intervened, “And also, this could just as well be any other person’s things. Who's to say this doesn’t belong to Dr. Siegmayers? His hideout where he killed and parcelled his victims has yet to be found. This could belong to anybody.”  
Vexen waved his hand dismissively, a hint of impatience, “You can smell the smoke of cigars everywhere in this district, but I’ve combed through all the flats I could here, and this one struck out. It couldn’t have belonged to Dr. Siegmayer, he suffers from a tobacco allergy and would thus not be able to either smoke around his victims nor stand the smell here for very long.”  
“How does this flat stick out? It’s a homeless shelter. Everything you’ve mentioned is speculation. Granted, it could be made to sound convincing, but this cannot be considered evidence.”   
Marluxia glared at his surroundings, “This place is also not taped up. If you found this place by yourself and notified the authorities, they would have this place set up. But it isn’t.”  
The lawyer set his eyes back on the scientist, returning the cold gaze, “They don’t think what you’ve found is relative to the case. Useless even.”

“Marluxia.”  
The pink haired man growled in response, “Why are you trying so hard if you know who's behind this?”  
Vexen took a step toward him, “There’s a possibility to catch him- to get him safely chained up and out of this world.”  
There was something in Vexen’s face that made Marluxia hiss in disbelief. Pity.  
The scientist was pitying his situation, and awfully noticeable at that. It wasn’t a kind pity. It was the disgusted pity aristocrats would view the impoverished with. The blonde knew Marluxia could be killed. And treated it like the potentiality of euthanizing a dying animal. And there was an underlying sense of excitement. Vexen wanted him to lose.

This was deplorable. If they had no soulmate connection, Marluxia swore he would have pressed the man down onto the couch and choked the life out him.  
A flash of crazed, green and blue eyes covered his gaze before he calmed down, a gentle throbbing in his head building.

“If what you’re suggesting is true, we’ve just spread our DNA all over this place. If there’s traces of blood or otherwise in this house- any investigation now would only make us suspicious.”  
Marluxia laughed quietly, kicking a tin can near his shoes away.  
“My impression of you is that you must be more idiotic than I thought.”

“Oh, shall I inform you of my impression?” the blonde acknowledged, hackles raised.  
“You’re a sad, pitiful lonely man with nothing in his life but workplace competition to paint your life with.”  
“You’re pushing it, Vexen. If you value your life stop talking.”  
Vexen grinned, “Oh, so you’re using my first name now too. Good.”  
Turning away from Marluxia’s bared teeth, the scientist walked towards the couch.  
“I’m only saying this, as it would be such a shame to see such a sad life come to a premature end- I would love to see how you continue to flounder about in life with nothing to love and hold close. So entertaining.”

Marluxia stepped close behind him, raising himself a little on his toes in order to hiss into Vexen’s ear, “You're stepping close to the abyss, Mr. Eisberg. If you don’t stabilize yourself, you might find yourself falling.”

It was a warning, but the scientist only answered with an arrogant hmpf, seemingly ignorant to the proximity of their bodies.  
And then. “Truth be told, my superiors deemed my work to be disconnected. Not relative, they said, not appropriate and too reliant on unfeasible factors.”  
The air was taut between them.  
Marluxia felt his fingers twitch- the want to draw blood cursing through them.  
There was another feeling hidden there as well, but the pink haired man didn’t dare dwell on it. Not now at least. His anger was tangible, his bloodlust real.  
This was a waste of time, and a terrible showcasing of the distrust between the two men.

Vexen spoke again, this time his voice was gentle.  
“You know who it is, you know what he’s trying to do. I am aware of it all as well.”  
Turning around, neither of the two moved away from each other as they stood close, Marluxia glaring up at him.  
“What’s your oh so intelligent plan, great ‘Nerium Oleander’? Why aren’t you scheming, why aren’t you developing a way to confront Xemnas?”  
The nefarious blonde’s eyes glinted.  
“Are you possibly scared? Not knowing what to do?”

With a growl, Marluxia grabbed his collar with rough hands and pushed him against the back of the couch. Vexen managed a ruffled sneer before he struggled against the noose-like hold around his throat.  
“I know exactly what to do,” the lawyer snarled, “I don’t need your pitiful attempts to help, nor your pathetic existence pecking at my heels.”   
Leaning closer, they were nose to nose, body against body, matched pairs of eyes losing themselves in each other.  
“I’ll do only what I do best.”

Silence hung between them, until Vexen dove forward, smashing their faces together in an uncomfortable and messy kiss. Marluxia responded languidly, the murderous heat in his fingertips rekindling with a different kind of lust.

Only when they parted reddened lips did Vexen smile, his narrowed eyes a small gateway for Marluxia to see the distorted and warped flames of his wanting- a deviant form of competitive love which had started to kindle.

“I look forward to stopping you.”


End file.
